


Strip Poker Night (at the Inventory)

by LesbianSpacePirate



Category: BioShock Infinite, Huniepop & Huniecam (Video Games), Miraculous Ladybug, SPNatI, Strip Poker Night at the Inventory, Zone Archive, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 04:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15380433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbianSpacePirate/pseuds/LesbianSpacePirate
Summary: Written for r/spnati's 10,000 subscribers event, Ochako infiltrates a suspicious club as part of her hero work, and probably plays some strip poker with some folks, idk.





	Strip Poker Night (at the Inventory)

"You can't do this to me! You can't! This is- This is unlawful ejection from the premises! This is unconstitutional!”

Ochako grimaced and tried to avoid making direct eye contact as a young woman wearing a red beanie was dragged past her, yelling insistently about how clearly emotionally stable she was - in her experience, usually not the greatest indicator of that being entirely true. She did, however, give a sympathetic half-size to the much larger woman who, from the sour expression on her face and the fresh claw marks on her arms, almost certainly wasn’t getting paid enough to deal with this.

“I have rights! You can’t just- Hey! Hey, you! Don’t you wanna fuck me? You wanna fuck me, right! Bodysuit girl! Tell her that you wanna play the next game with me! I promise I’ll let you win!”

And by 'wearing a red beanie’, she had meant ‘ _only_ wearing a red beanie’.

“Come on! You know you want to! It doesn’t matter if I’m not your type, I’ll do anything you’re into! No limits! Whatever you’re into, I’ll do it! See? _See!?_ ”

She stood corrected. As the girl was escorted past her, Ochako noted that she was wearing two other things. The first was apparently the contents of an entire pack of permanent markers, an untidy scrawl denoting exactly who (or what) had done what, and where. Second, and much more nauseating, was a thick white crust that seemed to cover girl’s stomach, chest, the insides of her thighs, her neck...  Ochako initially thought it was some kind of horrid skin condition, and felt a twinge of sympathy for the girl, who was clearly suffering from some desperate attention-seeking complex to compensate.

Then she realised what the flaky coating of residue was _actually_ made from, and almost retched.

“You know you want to! You _want_ to fuck me! Stop pretending! I won’t judge you! So _do it!_ ”, she continued to insist, even as she was hurled out onto the sidewalk and the heavy steel door was slammed in her face. If anything, she just got louder, the noise of fingers desperately scraping against metal being added to her ranting.

After bolting the door shut (not, the frenzied screams on the other side assured her, that it would do much to keep her out), the bouncer gave Ochako what was presumably meant to be a reassuring, friendly smile. It was not.

“Apologies, friend.”, she said, in a thick Russian accent that seemed designed with the sole intent of scaring the Kansai twang right out of Ochako’s own voice. “There have been… problems with identification recently.”

“Do you have ID?”, the bouncer asked, extending a hand and raising an eyebrow that, actually, seemed to only be sixty percent of an eyebrow. “ID?”, she repeated, a little more impatiently, when Ochako failed to respond beyond a quiet noise at the back of her throat and a face like a rabbit in headlights.

“I-I left it at home!”, Ochako finally answered, prompting the woman to sigh and produce a compact tablet. She tapped the screen a few times, cleared her throat, and looked back up at her expectantly.

“Name, please?”

“Ochako Uraraka!”, she said, proudly, putting her hands on her hips and puffing out her chest. “Pro hero!”, she added, hoping it’d impress the bouncer. The bouncer, for her part, didn’t seem to react to it at all.

“Source?”

“Wh-What…?”. Had she been supposed to bring some sort of reference? A CV with citations?

The bouncer gave an exasperated sigh. “Where are you _from?_ ”

“Mie Prefecture?”

The bouncer shook her head and tapped her sternum. “Overwatch.”, she said, clearly and slowly, as if perhaps that space-age helmet wasn’t purely an aesthetic choice.

“Oh! Um, Boku no… My Hero… Whichever… Academia?”

Taptaptap.

“And did you bring enough money to buy in? Ten thousand, remember.”

“Oh-Oh. I, um…”. Ochako felt her cheeks flush for what was sure to not be the only time tonight. “I was actually here for the… The other thing…”

For a moment, the bouncer almost looked impressed.

“In _that_ case, you have a liability waiver to sign.”

She turned the screen to Ochako, and tapped a fingernail against the line she was supposed to sign. It was probably no accident that she was being given no time to read it over, but, considering the nature of the establishment, it probably wasn’t going to be _particularly_ legally binding.

She handed the tablet back, and followed the bouncer through a set of double doors at the back left corner of the room. From there, it was a series of twisting, narrow hallways, most of which seemed redundant and kind of inconvenient. Still, she made a mental note of any forks, just in case she needed to make a hasty retreat.

Ochako was, of course, not here vocationally. There was important hero business to be had in the backroom of the backroom of the Inventory. Wherever there was a secretive, dubiously-legal poker club, rumors were sure to follow. With those rumors came questions. There was no entry or membership fee, and patrons were even provided with free refreshments. That begged the question: if those in attendance weren’t paying to be there, how was the club bringing in enough money to continue operating? Ochako had a number of theories, none of which were particularly pleasant to think about, but sometimes heroism meant confronting unpleasantness head-on. That was just part of the job. Uncovering the truth, however unpleasant it happened to be.

The bouncer rapped her knuckles against a metal door at the end of what must have been the seventh or eighth identical hallway. After a moment, a buzzer sounded, and the door swung open. On the other side, suspended from a monorail that ran along the ceiling, were two possibilities:

  1. Someone with a very convincing costume or very complicated mutant quirk who had wired themselves into the mains power for unspecified reasons.
  2. A genuine, honest-to-goodness android.



The person-or-maybe-robot had her(?) arms folded, her shiny plastic expression a mixture of contempt and disinterest. She didn’t even seem to look at Ochako, just gestured behind herself with one sleek, slender arm.

“This way, please.”

She sounded bored. Considering she was seemingly permanently attached to a railing in a dark basement, Ochako couldn’t really blame her. She followed a few paces behind, glancing behind her as the bouncer closed the door again. That wouldn’t be a problem, would it?

With the door shut, it was difficult to see - the only light now was the glow of the various LEDs hooked up to her cybernetic guide, most of which seemed to be there for form over function. In fact, it was still so dark that Ochako almost walked right into the door to the club proper, catching herself with her palms flat against the cold steel surface. She slid her right hand down to the handle, as if trying to play it cool (something that didn’t work whatsoever), and found it didn’t open. There were a series of metallic chips and whirrs from the darkness, a final electronic chirp, and then it did. Ochako stumbled forwards into… yet another hallway. This time, one filled with noise and bustle, rows upon rows of private booths lining the walls.

Ochako had to walk quickly to keep pace with her new robotic escort, meaning she didn’t have much time to take in her surroundings. She only heard snippets of conversations, some heated, some relaxed. As she passed one booth, she caught a glimpse through the curtain of a _very_ angry tattooed woman letting off a stream of profanities in Chinese and English whilst gesticulating wildly with a pair of pistols that she _desperately_ hoped weren’t loaded. It took everything in her power to suppress her natural heroic instinct to intervene - after all, if she caused a scene _now_ , there was no chance she’d be able to complete her actual mission.

After a minute or so of power-walking to keep up, the automaton ground to a stop, Ochako slowing to a halt beside her. Evidently, they had arrived. The red curtain in front of them parted, revealing a surprisingly comfortable setup. The booth was a circular inset in the wall, with a raised wooden platform concentric to it, and what appeared to be a rotatable table concentric to that. It was a surprisingly elegant design given the nature of the place. Very tasteful. Almost _certainly_ out of the price range of a club that didn’t charge admission. The mystery thickened.

“This is the table where you’ll be playing tonight. You were matched with these opponents after I ran several trillion painstaking calculations to see who you would be most compatible with, then threw them out and put together the most volatile combination I had on retainer. It’s entirely possible that this game might end in violent bloodshed and no survivors. I’m counting on it, in fact.”

Thanks to their android hostess’s deadpan delivery, she wasn’t sure whether that was true or not. It certainly didn’t _look_ like a volatile mix. If anything, Ochako’s new playmates appeared polite and well-mannered, nothing like she’d expected the clientele of a place like this to look.

Except maybe the half-dressed, half-drunk one who was keening softly to herself, draped across two seats in the back corner. That was pretty much exactly what she’d expected.

“Excuse me?”, she tried, getting only a groan and a dismissive hand-wave in response.

“Those are pretty wings. Are those your quirk?”, she tried again, to much greater success. Almost immediately, the winged lady (whom Ochako was just going to call ‘The Butterfly’ until she had a name to go with her cute-albeit-slightly-doughy face) sat bolt upright, gleaming emerald eyes wide and eager at the compliment. Or perhaps just at the chance to show off.

“Y’wanna touch ‘em?”, she asked, wings twitching a little, shaking off little specks of what looked like glitter. Ochako was hesitant - they looked delicate, like if she wasn’t careful, they’d tear like wet tissue paper. The Butterfly had no such reservations.

“Go ooonnn, you know you want to!”, she insisted, turning her back towards Ochako whilst squeezing her arms together in front of her chest in a way that was… alluring? Or, at least, supposed to be. It probably would have had more of an effect had she not been wearing a pretty rigid breastplate that stopped most of the desired squishing from happening.

Ochako sat in the empty seat beside her, and, after a moment of hesitation, reached out to gently rub one wing between her gloved fingers. Almost immediately, The Butterfly clamped her thighs together, shivered, bit her lip, and made a quiet mewling noise at the back of her throat.

Ochako, more uncomfortable than she had ever been in her life at the prospect of having fondled what was clearly a very sensitive appendage, tried to change the subject whilst wiping the glitter off of her glove. “I don’t think I caught your name…?”

Her new friend apparently wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

“Why did you _stooop?_ ”, she whined, rubbing her thighs together some more, palms pressed to her… her underwear? Had the game started already, or had she just come to strip poker half-dressed? “I was almost theeereee!”

Ochako looked around the table, pleading with her eyes for someone to intervene and cut the tension. Thankfully, her prayers were answered by the purple-haired woman sitting across from her.

“You could at _least_ buy her a drink first, Kyu.”

Kyu pouted and sank in her seat a little.

“I just wanted to get there before _you_ did. For _once._ ”

“You wanted to stop me from getting what _you think_ I want?”

Kyu stayed silent as she tried to parse the slightly awkward grammar of the question.

“As if I don’t _always_ get my way in the end.”

The purple-haired woman laughed nastily, and for a moment, Ochako was _sure_ she saw a flicker of something at the back of her throat - not just a shadow, but the radiance of an impossibly black light, undulating just beyond the horizon of her tongue. Then the woman pressed her immaculate, purple-nailed fingertips to her lips, swallowed dryly, and chuckled into her palm. She had sly, narrow features that made Ochako’s stomach churn warily, and the casual-but-clearly-calculated way she stirred a finger in circles through her drink just oozed confidence. Everything about her, from her tailor-made ill-fitting sweater to her mussed hair tying off in an immaculate drill, made it clear that she was making it clear that she absolutely cared that you knew she didn’t care. The air around her seemed to shimmer imperceptibly, like hot concrete on a summer’s day, and it left a too-sweet taste in Ochako’s mouth that made her part her dry lips and breathe heavily, clouds fogging up the visor of her helmet. Her eyes followed the hypnotic clockwise swirl of the woman’s finger in her glass, two perfect ice cubes bobbing up and down in the wake of a whirlpool of wine. They didn’t make a sound, neither touching each other nor the sides of the glass, even as the purple-haired woman lifted her finger out of her drink and let it drip dry. In each second interval between the drops, Ochako became more and more acutely aware of how parched she was, how she would do anything just to wrap her lips around that wet finger and--

“Are you… feeling okay?”

Ochako was snapped out of her reverie by a gentle voice to her right, and she was more than a little surprised to find that it belonged to another hero.

“Are you a hero?”, she asked, despite the fact there was no real other explanation for the domino mask and polka-dot latex suit. Either she was a hero, or a niche kind of dominatrix.

Practically speaking, she mused, domino masks had fallen out of fashion since they were deemed widely impractical both for facial protection and hiding your identity. She was pretty sure she’d have been able to identify most of her old classmates even if they’d covered their cheekbones with a thin bit of cloth. So that was a point towards her being some kind of superhero-impersonating sex worker.

Then again, she could always be both. It was tough for a new hero to fund themselves if they didn’t get booked in with an agency. There were all sorts of salacious tales of the things her old teacher Midnight had done to support her… 'indulgent’ lifestyle, and while she herself had never been _that_ desperate for cash, she had perhaps sold one or two racier pictures or old pairs of underwear over the internet during the months that money had been tight.

“I’m the Miraculous Ladybug!”, her tablemate said, with the kind of enthusiasm to introduce herself that Ochako knew all too well. “Protector of Paris!”, she added.

Yep, definitely a hero.

Ochako reached over to shake her hand. “And I’m the Gravity hero, Uravity! Or… Ochako Uraraka, considering I’m off-duty.”

In hindsight, perhaps giving a fake name on her way in would have been a better idea. But, she figured, her cover would be more believable if it was the truth - better to hide in plain sight and hope for refuge in honesty.  
  
When it became clear that her fellow hero wouldn’t be naming herself as readily as Ochako had, she put her hands back into her lap, squeezing them nervously with her thighs.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Marinette. And Kyu. And Zone-tan. And…”.

And then there was the fourth woman, who was seemingly trying to sink into the background whilst still remaining composed and elegant. It was working surprisingly well. Despite her perfectly upright posture and bespoke dress, she still looked like the most normal of the four.

“Elizabeth C… DeWitt. Elizabeth DeWitt.”

Ochako nodded. “Then it’s nice to meet you as well.”

She couldn’t really think of anything else to say to her, so she didn’t. She stared intently at a spot on the curtain behind Elizabeth’s left shoulder, and waited for someone else to break the silence. Elizabeth shifted slightly nervously in her chair, and Ochako noticed that Zone-tan’s hand had been resting on her inner thigh. Elizabeth didn’t seem to be particularly comfortable with it.

The host android made a noise not unlike clearing her throat, which struck Ochako as somewhat counterintuitive considering she probably didn’t _have_ a real throat to clear. “Then our players are: Elizabeth. Zone-Tan. Marinette. Ochako. Kyu. Your game begins in ten seconds.”

Marinette leaned over towards Kyu. “...So Ochako is…?”, she whispered, looking her way.

“Moon-faced chick with the thicc butt.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Ochako felt her cheeks burning. “Hey! I do not have a- Eek! St-Stop that!”

She swatted at Kyu’s wayward, pinching fingers, which did almost nothing to deter her. In fact, it only made her fairy assailant flatten her palm and grope harder

“Why are you behaving like this, Kyu?”, Elizabeth asked, firmly but not unkindly. It seemed to work, since Kyu let go. Ochako silently mouthed words of thanks across the table to her.

“Love fairy, bruh. At any given time, my body’s pumping itself full of more hormones than the last burger you ate.”, Kyu explained, whilst prodding at Ochako’s stomach.

“...I’m a vegetarian…”, Ochako mumbled, taking another swipe at Kyu’s hand.

“With tits like _that?_ Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu…”, Kyu paused to take a sharp, wheezing breath, “...uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure you are.”

She coughed a few times, as if to refresh her lungs to a reasonable sort of in-out motion again.

“Do you need some water, Kyu?”, Elizabeth asked. Zone-tan tilted her glass of wine towards her. Kyu shook her head. Marinette gave Zone-tan a pointed look.

“Don’t you think she’s had enough already?”

Kyu just waved a hand. “It’s fine. Love fairies get drunk easily, but we also get over it quickly. I’m pretty much already jonesing, actually. Dealer! Get me another one of those pink ones with the sherbet and the crushed ice!”

Their android host looked suitably unimpressed as she dealt them five cards each, plus an extra laminated card to Kyu. Kyu read it, winced, and then stuffed it into the side of her underwear for safekeeping. Ochako wasn't sure whether everyone else was also too uncomfortable to ask about it, or whether it was just normal behaviour that the rest of them had grown accustomed to by now.

Ochako glanced at her cards and had to suppress a whimper of pure relief. Two kings, two aces, and a nine. That meant she’d be safe, at least, right? It was only the first round, and her costume had enough bells and whistles for decoration that she wouldn’t have to expose herself to these strangers unless she got _really_ unlucky. She could stave off defeat long enough to get the information she was looking for. The situation was under control, especially since her opponents seemed far more disappointed in their hands.

Was “more disappointed” right? It sounded like a double negative. “More appointed”?

No, that was dumb.

“The time for exchanging cards is over. You may now reveal your hands.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> More chapters are happening Soon™, but I needed to churn this first one out before the deadline. Sorry that it's so short.


End file.
